


Interlude

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, Pregnancy Scare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-08 21:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15252561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: He looks well and truly concerned now, brows furrowed as he closes the door behind them. Still, he doesn't rush her, doesn't force her to speak. Just waits, slouching a bit, as if trying to make himself less imposing. It doesn't really work-he still towers over her-but the fact that he's willing to try is oddly sweet."I'm late," she blurts, then winces at his blank expression."Late for what?"





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> A brief word on timelines: According to the writers, Jessica was in the bunker long enough to know that she was pregnant. Obviously, this doesn't really line up with what we got to see, which means there are some missing days we have to account for. I'm putting one of them during 2x06. 
> 
> Basically, that night, after they come back from 1936, Lucy doesn't go to Flynn's room. Instead, this happens. The scene we all love so much happens just after the end of this fic, a day later. 
> 
> There's technically nothing that says it couldn't have happened, which is why I tagged it canon-compliant. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!! This is a fill for two Tumblr prompts from anonymous, both from the 100 ways to say "I love you" list: "It's okay. I couldn't sleep anyway," and "We'll figure it out." 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas!

It's times like this when she misses Amy most. Of course, she always misses her, but there are times when the pain seems to fade, to shift into peripheral. There are times when she remembers her team, and she doesn't feel so alone in the world.

This is not one of those times.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she tells the empty room, burying her face in her hands.

Amy would know just what to do.

Amy would wrap her in her arms, tell her that everything would be okay, and honestly make her believe it. (She'd also probably run down the hall and give Wyatt a solid slap across the face, and in spite of herself, Lucy smiles at the thought.)

But Amy isn't here, and Lucy is alone on a vinyl couch, wishing she were anywhere else.

She can't be pregnant. She can't. Of course, she doesn't know that she is. It's just a hunch, and one she has no idea how to confirm. It's not like she can run down to the drugstore and pick up a test. But since Hollywood, she's been nauseous, fatigued, and constantly hungry.

And now... This.

Granted, it's hard to keep track of weeks when she spends half her time in the past, but she's pretty sure she's late.

Panic claws at her throat, as the implications crowd in on her all at once. Wyatt’s wife is alive. The last thing he needs is another complication in his life. For that matter, the last thing _she_ needs is another complication in _her_ life. She can’t exactly rush off into war zones if she’s pregnant; risking her own life is one thing, but she isn’t about to risk a child’s life.

Can she even time-travel while she’s pregnant? What if it’s dangerous? What if something has already-?

She needs to talk to someone. Anyone.

Instinctively, she starts toward Wyatt's room, then falters, remembering the way he and Jessica had disappeared into there a short time before, giggling and lovestruck. Definitely not going to Wyatt, then.

Jiya flickers through her mind, but Jiya is with Rufus, and if Rufus finds out, he'll want to tell Wyatt. She doesn't want to put this on him, not until she's sure, and while she trusts Rufus, she knows how uncomfortable he would be if she asked him to lie about something like this.  Mason, she doesn't know well enough, and Agent Christopher is still her boss.

That leaves one option.

_"I guess what I was trying to say back there was that I'd like to get to know you."_

This probably isn't what he was picturing. But panic is clouding her mind, and she doesn't let herself overthink it, stumbling to his door and knocking. Immediately, she regrets it. It must be well after three in the morning. He's probably sleeping. What was she thinking? She turns to go, but the door swings open, and Garcia Flynn steps out, rubbing his eyes, as if he isn't quite sure of what he's seeing.

"Lucy?" His accent is thick from sleep, and he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "Is everything-"

“I'm so sorry," she stammers, taking a step back. "I didn't mean to wake you up, I just didn't notice what time it was, and I needed someone to talk to, and I-"

He cuts her off, gentle and reassuring. "It's alright, Lucy. I couldn't sleep, anyway. Now, what's this about?" He gestures to his room, a wordless invitation, and after a token attempt to talk herself out of it, she steps inside.

Right. Now she has to explain this. But where to start?

"I... I...."

He looks well and truly concerned now, brows furrowed as he closes the door behind them. Still, he doesn't rush her, doesn't force her to speak. Just waits, slouching a bit, as if trying to make himself less imposing. It doesn't really work-he still towers over her-but the fact that he's willing to try is oddly sweet.

"I'm late," she blurts, then winces at his blank expression.

"Late for what?"

Taking a deep breath, she tries again. "Ever since I got back from Hollywood, I've been sick, and exhausted, and constantly hungry, and-"

Thankfully, he finally understands. "And now you're late." She can see the gears turning in his head, the implications hitting him all at once. Pain flickers through his eyes briefly, and she regrets it-she isn't completely unaware of how he feels about her, after all-but in the next moment, he is the steadiest thing in the room.

"Have you talked to Wyatt?"

Of course that would be his first question. It's a reasonable one, because that should probably be her first step. But she doesn't want to have that conversation if she can avoid it.

"No. He and Jessica are... Busy." He grimaces, and she adds, "Besides, I don't want to say anything to him until I'm sure. I mean... He just got his wife back. He's trying to save his marriage. The last thing he needs to worry about is whether or not I'm-"

"If he would be the father, it's the first thing he needs to worry about," he says, but the edge in his voice clearly isn't aimed at her. Then, he nods. "But not telling Wyatt yet. Alright then. Have you taken a test?"

Another good question, but... "No. They don't exactly come with the bunker." She laughs, knowing she probably sounds a little hysterical, but far past caring. "The bunker. Where we live. Because we live in a military bunker. Great place to raise a kid, don't you think? Not to mention, we don’t even know if it’s possible to time-travel when you’re pregnant. Which I’ve already done, by the way, so if I’m pregnant-“

His hands settle on her shoulders, warm and gentle, but firm. "We'll figure it out. Alright?" He sounds so convinced, she can't help but believe him. He holds her gaze until she nods. When his hands fall away, she wants to snatch them back, to keep them there, grounding her. But she isn't sure what he'd do.

"I just don't know what to do now," she admits, hating how weak and helpless she feels. Her eyes fall shut, and she suddenly wants nothing more than to crawl onto his bed, bury herself in the covers, and sleep this whole mess away.

"Now..." He hesitates, and she opens her eyes, watching him curiously. He seems reluctant to say whatever it is, and that worries her. "Now, you need to take a test. And that is going to involve talking to Agent Christopher."

Oh.

Even as she knows he's right, her mind rebels at the thought of telling her, of admitting that she let her love life interfere with the mission, admitting that she was so careless-

"Do you think she'll be angry?" She doesn't mean to ask it aloud, but old insecurities claw at her, memories of being fifteen and getting caught making out with a boy, of her mother lecturing her for hours on how irresponsible it was. (Probably because the boy wasn't Rittenhouse. But she hadn't known that then. How could she?)

"Do you?" It's a sincere question, a reminder that she knows Agent Christopher better than he does, but there's a sharp edge underneath. If Agent Christopher does get angry with her, she'll have to deal with him.

Rationally, she doubts that it'll be as bad as she’s imagining. After all, Agent Christopher is nothing like Carol Preston. But her voice flickers through Lucy's mind, impossibly fond, assuring her, _"If you were my daughter, I'd be very proud,"_ and it suffocates her, a little.

"I don't know," she admits. He sighs, but before he can say anything, she clears her throat, steadying herself. "But you're right. I need to talk to her, I just... Don't think I can do it alone."

The request she can't quite voice hangs in the air between them, and like always, he manages to hear what she doesn't say.

"You don't have to."

-

Unlike Flynn, Agent Christopher is scowling when she opens her door, and Lucy can feel her slight confidence waning. "This better be important," the older woman mutters.

She can feel Flynn behind her, not quite touching, but offering her silent support. It steadies her, more than it should. Clearing her throat, she struggles to find her voice

Agent Christopher's expression softens as the hazes of sleep fade from her eyes, and she seems to realize that something is actually wrong. "Lucy, what is it?"

"I need-" Come on, Lucy. Just spit it out. Rip it off like a band-aid, right? "Ineedapregnancytest."

Christopher blinks once. Twice. Lucy can see the exact moment the words register in her mind. Her eyes widen, and she glances past Lucy with nothing less than disbelief. "Wait, are you saying-?"

Suddenly, she realizes how this must look, Flynn coming with her to ask. She's not sure how she didn't before. Quickly, she clarifies. "No! Not him-us-that's not a-nope!" Mortified, she begs her brain to provide actual sentences this time, instead of just scattered words. "Just... Someone else. So, if you don't mind, um... Yep!"

More than ten years teaching, and that's the best she can manage. Great. Because the situation wasn't embarrassing enough already. She closes her eyes, unable to see the disappointment she knows is coming, so she's caught off-guard when Agent Christopher tugs her forward, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Oh, Lucy." There's no anger, no disappointment, just tender concern, and Lucy shatters, burying her face in Christopher's shoulder.

The woman rocks her back and forth gently, holding her through her tears. Lucy can only imagine what Flynn is thinking, standing awkwardly off to the side; Agent Christopher has never been his favorite person, after all. But he doesn't leave, and that's something. Finally, she's steady enough to pull away, and Agent Christopher is smiling softly at her. "Whatever happens, it's going to be alright, hm? You won't have to deal with this alone."

And somehow, she believes it.

"Agent Christopher? I... I'd be proud, too." Flynn must be terribly confused, but the two women share a smile, and Lucy feels just a little bit lighter.

-

“…And that’s when I realized that getting into a fist-fight with a dinosaur in the middle of an op was a bad idea.”

Lucy blinks, rolling the words over in her mind, scrambling for context. What are they talking about, again? Something about his early NSA days, she’s sure, but she certainly doesn’t remember anything about a dinosaur. (Although, to be fair, she can’t remember much of anything he’s been saying. Her mind is too clouded with suffocating panic.)

She turns to him, ready to offer a polite laugh and hope he doesn’t question it, when she notices the amused expression on his face. _Busted._ “Sorry,” she murmurs. “I just wish she’d get here.”

They’re hiding out in his room, him on his chair and her on his bed, waiting for Agent Christopher to show up with a test. Ostensibly, they’re talking, but really, it’s mostly him, telling her all about himself, trying to keep her distracted from her growing panic. It helps, but it isn’t enough.

He brushes off her apology with a soft smile. “It’s alright. Lorena was the same way when we were waiting to hear if she was pregnant.”

It gives her pause, for a moment. Because, for all the talking he’s done tonight, it’s mostly been throwaway stories, or amusing tales of his career, because all of the hopelessness had crept in. This is the first time he’s mentioned his family. She takes a risk, and asks a question. “Your daughter…” She hesitates when his expression shifts, but he nods for her to go on. “Was she… Were you and your wife trying, or was she a… Surprise?”

He considers her question. “Both, I suppose,” he answers slowly. “We’d been trying for years, but we’d really given up hope, when…” He trails off, something bittersweet in his eyes, and she’s struck by the urge to reach out to him. She wraps her arms tightly around herself instead.

“A happy surprise, then.” She tries to imagine what that would be like, being relieved at the possibility of being pregnant, instead of terrified.

It must be nice.

(And yet, an image appears in her head, of her cradling a child in her arms, whispering reassurances against their delicate head. Picking out baby clothes, falling asleep with a small, warm weight against her chest… Maybe the bunker wouldn’t be so bad, then.)

She shakes her head, clears her thoughts, and turns her attention back to Flynn. He still seems lost in his memories, and she doesn’t really know if she should intrude or not, so she stays quiet, pulling his blanket up around her shoulders.

A knock on the door startles them from their musings, and she tenses, drawing back. She’s not sure who it is, and she really doesn’t want to have to explain this to Wyatt. (She’s in Garcia Flynn’s _bed,_ she realizes. She could only imagine Wyatt’s reaction.)

Flynn rises, cautiously, and makes his way to the door. Opens it a crack, then relaxes, stepping back inside. “It’s Agent Christopher.”

Relief floods her. One way or the other, she’ll know something soon. She slips off the bed, searching for her shoes.

“Do you want me to come with you,” Flynn asks softly, and she considers the question. It would be nice, not having to be alone for this, but the awkward mental picture of him sitting by while she literally pees on a stick outweighs the possible comfort.

“I’ll be okay. But thank you, for…” She gestures to the room vaguely. “All of this.”

His expression is full of understanding. “You’re welcome here anytime, Lucy.”

-

Two minutes. All she has to do is wait two minutes. She waited hours for Agent Christopher to get back with the test. She can definitely wait two minutes.

Maybe she should have asked Flynn to come in with her. Sure, it would have been awkward, but at least he would have been able to distract her. Now, all she has to focus on is her thoughts, or the tiny cardboard box the test came in.

She chooses the latter. Turning it over in her hands, she hesitates. There are two in the box, which means there’s still one unused. She could throw it away, but that seems wasteful, so she goes to the row of lockers on the far side of the room and slides it into an unused one. Who knows? Maybe one day, Rufus and Jiya will need it. (Or Wyatt and Jessica, she can’t help but think, but she forces the thought from her mind.)

With that taken care of, there’s nothing to focus on but her worries.

If she is pregnant, they’ll have to find a new historian, someone they trust, and those are in short supply. Trust in general is in short supply.

Of course, if they bring in a new historian, they’ll need a place to sleep. Briefly, she wonders if she’ll have to leave, and if she does, if anyone will come with her, or if she’ll have to do this alone. (And it _should_ be Wyatt she’s picturing; after all, he deserves the chance to raise his child. But he’s married, and it’s not him she’s imagining holding her hair back, and helping her pick out baby names. It’s the man who has been here all night, holding her together. But his quest against Rittenhouse is too important to him. She’d never ask him to give it up.)

Forcing those thoughts from her mind, she checks her watch.

A minute and a half down, thirty seconds to go. She stifles a groan.

Absently, she traces the locket hanging from her neck, once again wishing Amy were here. (What would Amy think of Flynn? Of Wyatt? Of any of this?) It seems like hours later that her timer finally dings, announcing that, for better or for worse, she has her answer. All she has to do is look, but questions keep dancing in her mind.

What if it's positive? How on earth is she going to be a mother? It's not like she has the best role model in that area. How is she going to tell Wyatt? What is Jessica going to say?

What if it's negative? Unexpectedly, that thought leaves a pain in her chest, an emptiness that she doesn’t know how to deal with.

There's only one way to find out which thing she should be panicking about, but she can't bring herself to turn her head, to look at the test. "Okay, on three, right? One... Two... Three." She turns, but stops the movement halfway through, groaning in frustration.

"I can do this. I can do this." She takes a deep breath. "I can... Not do this."

Nope. It's just a few inches to her right, sitting there on the sink, but her limbs lock in place, refusing to turn. What if, what if, what if?

Finally, she surrenders, marching over to the bathroom door, yanking it open, and striding down the hall. Flynn is just inside his doorway, waiting for her verdict, and she grabs him by the hand, dragging him back with her. He could stop her quite easily, but he lets her pull him in, stumbling as he goes.

She turns to face him, and the gentleness of his expression twists in her heart, for a moment. "Well?" He keeps his voice soft, non-threatening, and tears prick at her eyes.

"I don't know," she admits, exhausted and miserable. "I can't look. I can't-" She's trembling now, tears slipping down her cheeks, and she wipes them away sharply. If she falls apart right now, she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to pull herself back together. She needs an answer. "I can't look," she repeats, more firmly. "So... Will you?"

Something flickers through his eyes, pained and distant, and this time, she knows it has nothing to do with her. This whole thing must be bringing back memories of his family, and she wishes she knew how to help him, but she doesn't.

"Of course." When she looks at him again, the pain is gone, and he's striding forward.

He doesn't hesitate, doesn't drag out the moment. He checks the box to be sure, glances at the test, and shakes his head. "You aren't pregnant."

Oh.

Somehow, for all of this, she never expected that answer. She isn't pregnant? How? All of the signs pointed to her being pregnant. Of course, there are other explanations-stress and time travel must wreck havoc on the body, and she’s spent most of the time since Hollywood recovering from a fever, which could explain the nausea-but she was so sure. To her horror, she realizes that she's about to cry again, and she frantically wipes her eyes. She will not cry. Not for this. This is the answer she was hoping for.

(So why does she feel so empty?)

In the next second, she's drawn forward, tugged into Flynn's tentative embrace. He's cautious, at first, clearly unsure of how she'll respond, but he's warm and solid, and she buries her face in his chest, clinging to his shirt as the tears fall. "Lucy, draga, it's alright. It's alright," he whispers against her hair, again and again. He pulls her more tightly against him, sheltering her from the world around her, and she sags against him.

She's not sure how long they stay like that, him rubbing circles on her back and murmuring reassurances, some mix of English and Croatian that doesn't really translate, but the tone carries, gentle and soothing. Finally, her breathing steadies, and she tilts her head up to look at him. It puts his lips dangerously close to hers. And he has been oh so kind to her these past few hours. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to... Thank him?

She leans in, and his eyes go wide. For half a second, he seems like he's going to meet her halfway, as his gaze flickers to her lips, and he tilts his head forward, almost unconsciously. Then he stops, clearing his throat, and pulls back.

Her face heats, and she briefly contemplates trying to crawl into the floor. Did she really misread him that badly?

But he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, shaking his head. "You don’t owe me anything, Lucy. Certainly not that."

Of course he'd be a gentleman about this. She wants to tell him that isn’t what this is. It isn’t about debt. She wants this, wants to kiss him until neither of them hurt anymore.

But then what? She certainly isn’t ready for any kind of real relationship, and besides, things are awkward enough with her having one ex in the bunker. If things didn’t work out, dinners would be unbearable. And suddenly, she’s sure that one kiss wouldn’t be enough. If they do this, (and she has a tug inside her that says they will, eventually,) they deserve a chance at something real.

Something they can’t have just yet.

So she pulls away, cheeks flushed, and nods. "Goodnight, Flynn," she murmurs, and he smiles, impossibly tender.

"Goodnight."

-

She comes to his room that night, with a bottle of vodka and a sheepish smile. He wants to get to know her, and maybe, just maybe, she’s ready to admit that she wants to get to know him, too.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you go. What started out as a half-thought of "Where did Jessica get the pregnancy test? Oh, wait! I know someone else in the bunker who could have had a pregnancy scare around then," grew into a 3,000+ word angst trip. I thought about making her actually be pregnant, and explore what that would look like, but A, I really wanted to keep it where it could technically be canon compliant, and B, I really didn't want to have to figure out the science behind time-traveling while pregnant and the possible implications of that. 
> 
> And with that... I hope you enjoyed! :D


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